On Black Jobs and Being "The Help"

One of the many things that people of pallor do that always hits a particular nerve in me is the seemingly unbridled desire or unconscious urge to automatically assume that Black and Brown folx, Indigenous people, and people of color are "the help" so they should be addressed as such.

A chunk of the generational trauma that people of pallor navigate the world carrying in their brains and bodies is built upon biases, stereotypes, and a belief that most jobs and tasks aren't worthy of being jobs people of pallor should have or tasks they should have to do. And there seems to be this innate inability to refrain from making jokes about people of color doing manual labor for people of pallor. Hell, chattel slavery was built on these ideals, so it's not surprising that this messiness is imprinted in the DNA of generations of people of pallor.

But just because it's not surprising doesn't make it any less oppressive or mean that people of pallor shouldn't unpack and unlearn this sh—.

This nonsense has happened to me my entire life. Most people of color, Black and Brown folx, and Indigenous folx deal with this in some capacity. I have been stopped while shopping dozens of times by people who think I'm "the help." It doesn't matter what kind of store I'm in or that store team members are usually in uniform with a name badge on their lapels – I still get pegged as "the help." I have been in shorts and flip-flops and still have people of pallor asking me where the Brita filters are.

It happens when I'm gardening and minding my business in my yard. I've had people of pallor ask me for my card because they "think I do good work." Many jokingly quip, "You can come down to my house and do my lawn next," "I've got some weeds you can pull," or some other "funny banter." These interactions occur at least once a week in the summer months and too many times to count throughout the year.

I can't even wash my car without dealing with this nonsense. I washed my car yesterday, and as I was detailing the tires and interior, some woman of pallor cheerfully said, "I'm going to pull my car up, and you can do mine next!" I looked at her, stone-faced, and quickly said, "No. Not today." She obviously didn't expect my response because she reacted like I spit at her feet before quickly complimenting the job I was doing and moseying her ass down the street.

Let's be real: there is nothing wrong with any job. All jobs have merit and are good jobs. I will never denigrate anyone's job. Jobs of all kinds keep the world moving forward. Thousands of jobs ensure our lives are collectively easier, safer, healthier, and a little more assessable at the behest of people's blood, sweat, and tears. But this inherent assumption that many people of pallor carry that some jobs are beneath them and that melanated people are always here to serve? It's preposterous.

There are no Black jobs, Karen. There are just jobs. Period.

Your white supremacy is showing.

You might wanna tuck that in.